Waking Up In Vegas
by cherieblossum
Summary: One tequila, two tequila, three tequila...married! Well, Bella Swan, that's what you get for waking up in Vegas! AU/AH. O/S Contest entry for: A Wedding To Remember


**~*~ Waking Up In Vegas ~*~**

**"Let's Make it Forever, Baby!" A Wedding to Remember O/S Contest**

**PenName:** cherieblossum

**Title:** Waking Up In Vegas

**Word Count:** 13,853

**Rating: **M

**Pairing: **Bella/Edward

**Summary:** One Tequila, Two Tequila, Three Tequila...Marriage? Well, Bella Swan, that's what you  
get for waking up in Vegas!

**Disclaimer**: The characters belong to . The sentence structure, flow, great grammar etc.  
Belong to my awesome beta annanabanana. All the mistakes are mine.

**Please check out all the entries in the C2 here:**

http:/www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/community/Lets_Make_it_Forever_Baby_A_Wedding_to_Remember_O_S_Contest/83448/

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"Belly-Button move your little tushie!"

"Ugh, Alice give me a freakin' minute." She's been screeching at me for the last hour. We still have four hours until our flight leaves, but Ms. 'I am so organized that I have been packed for 3 weeks' insists that even domestic flights should have a three hour minimum pre-arrival.

On the other hand, I am currently sitting on the floor, cross-legged, looking at an empty suitcase. I procrastinate so much that if it were an Olympic sport, I'd be, hands down, the gold medal champion, every time, with perfect 6.0's across the board.

This trip wasn't even my idea. My idea, after walking in on one's boyfriend going down on another guy, was to spend the weekend in my flannel Wonder Woman pyjamas, surrounded by greasy pizza and cartons of ice cream, watching John Hughes films.

Alice however had other plans.

She firmly believes in the age old adage that the only way to get over a boy is to get under another one. Or several other ones. Preferably at the same time. I won't go into details about the night I walked in on that. Let's just say even though we moved out of our dormitory last year we still abide by the scrunchee over the doorknob routine.

I don't see why I even bother to pack anything. Alice always insists I wear her clothes when we go out or she buys me new outfits altogether.

It's useless to fight with Alice over buying me new clothes and I gave up a while ago. She always makes this pouty sad-panda face that sends me flailing with guilt. I always let her have her way anyway so why not benefit a little from this version of a Dom/sub relationship?

I empty a random drawer into my suitcase, sneaking in my Wonder Woman pyjamas just in case Alice meets the seventeenth 'Mr. Right' and abandons me in our suite.

Underwear? Check. Fake ID that Alice assures me will work in the USA? Check.

"What do you think you are doing?" I jump, Alice startling me with her screech.

She grabs my English Lit. Book out of my hands and tosses it in the closet. "Bella," she whines, exasperated with me. "We are going to Vegas, in no way, at any point in the trip, are you to be in a position to read a book!"

Once again I resign to Alice's demands and zip up my suitcase. As I make my way down the stairs of our condo, I see four large suitcases waiting by the front door.

"Alice, you have more suitcases than days we will be away." Even though I'm used to this behaviour from her I'm still shocked.

"Oh silly Bella, the fourth suitcase is for shoes." She giggles as she opens the front door to reveal a limo waiting outside for us.

There must be quite a surprised look on my face because Alice leaps up the stairs and instantly embraces me. "Bella, sweetie, I'm taking care of you this weekend. Only the best." She jumps down the flight of stairs and skips out the door to tell the driver to grab our bags.

.~*~.

First class. First-freakin'-class. I have never travelled first class. Brady and I flew to San Francisco once and one ticket was upgraded to first class. Brady took it, or I let him. Point is, I'm actually quite giddy about this opportunity.

We're buckled in when the attendant comes by offering us those cute little bottles of liquid filled with instant nerve calmer. I grab three, one of each colour. Alice gives me a bit of an eye; she's probably remembering the last time I drank. Actually, she's more likely remembering cleaning up the mess and taking me to the hairdresser after the last time I drank.

Brady and I were on our first 'break'. He always said that I should try short hair. I loved my long locks but I desperately wanted things back to the way they were. I was pretty convinced that Brady was 'the one', so what was a little haircut?

Well, lesson learned. It is not wise to arm yourself with kitchen scissors after you have consumed six Martinis. Alice fixed it though, like she always does. She's pretty magical, that one. Now my hair is slightly longer and I actually really like it. It's the only remnant of my relationship with Brady that I do like.

I'm not going to beat myself up over my shattered self-esteem. Not this weekend and not when I have access to large amounts of complimentary alcohol.

I turn to the seat beside me where Alice is sipping on some sort of champagne cocktail. Note to self: acquire a few of those. "So, little miss, what really brought on this impromptu trip to the City of Sin?"

Her face is the picture of innocence but I stop that in its tracks. "No, I'm not believing the 'let's get Bella out of the city it's for her own good' line. There is no way you could have just dropped everything at the magazine. Just last night you were so on edge about your deadlines, you were running up and down our stairs to burn off stress."

The guilt is evident in her eyes. She takes a drink and out of the side of her mouth she mumbles, "I may or may not have an assignment to do in Vegas." The words come streaming out so fast I'm not sure I've heard her correctly.

"I'm sorry, did you just say you were going to do work? Like, you are going to be writing and editing, glued to your laptop all weekend?" My voice begins to squeak at the end. As much as I would love to stay in a hotel room for the weekend, eating my way to a slow death by chocolate, I know Alice. She will wrap me up in some ridiculous outfit and strap me to a slot machine for the evening.

"Well" –she leans in and has her infamous mischievous grin on her face—"I've finally been given my first article and it requires some Vegas research. It's so good, it might even make the cover of the September issue. The. September. Issue. Bells, do you know what that means?"

Kneeling in the seat, she faces me now. The attendant catches my eye and the look on her face is one of displeasure. Alice notices her as well and points to her seatbelt, which she has somehow managed to keep done up, and smirks as the attendant shakes her head and returns to checking the overhead bins.

"Yes, Alice. The September cover is the most coveted cover for any writer to get her by-line on. The September issue sells more than any other. Any writer who even contributes to the September issue has gained prestige for the year and is automatically included in all the society parties for the rest of the season." I repeat the script Alice has spewed at me more times than I can count.

She's back facing forward with a dreamy look in her eye, no doubt envisioning which designers she will wear to each function for the rest of the year.

"Okay, little miss toast of the town, what is the story on and what does it have to do with us being in Vegas?" This actually sounds fun.

Before she can answer we are interrupted by the flight crew giving us instructions for take-off. I begin to glance through the glossy pages of the magazines Alice has packed in my in flight entertainment travel bag. She literally thinks of everything.

"...and the current temperature in Las Vegas, Nevada, is a nice twenty five degrees or seventy eight degrees Fahrenheit." The pilot has just made the weekend perfect. It will really lift my spirits to get out of this chilly Vancouver weather.

The takeoff is smooth and before I can even make it half-way through the article I'm reading, Alice rips it from my hands and is back on her knees, grasping my shoulder ready to spill all the details of this research.

"Remember that movie we watched last week? The one with the girl and the guy—where they each make a bet. She has to get rid of him and he has to keep her." She's so humorous with her enormous hand gestures.

"Yeah, _How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days_." We have date night, every Friday night since we were seven. Always some cheesy romantic comedy, and always just the two of us. We've never missed a Friday. Even when I broke my leg and had to have surgery, as soon as I came to, there was Alice with a VHS tape and a bag of Skittles she had stuffed in her training bra and snuck into the room.

"Exactly," she continues, "and the week before that, the one with the girl and the guy—where they accidently get married in Vegas but win at the slot machine and have to stay together."

"Yeah, um, it was called _What Happens In Vegas. _That one was funny. I really like the two friends." I start laughing as I remember my favourite parts. "Oh and then at the end when...when... she punches..." I'm laughing so hard I can't finish. It's clear the effects of the alcohol are already setting in.

"Yes. Great movie. Hilarious. Anyways, I got the fantastic idea to combine the two." Her voice lowers to a whisper and looks over her shoulder before returning her attention to me. "I'm going to find a guy in Vegas, convince him to marry me, and then see how long it takes for him to annul the marriage."

She is looking at me like this is the next great idea of our generation. I am still waiting for the punch line—the part where she tells me this was a joke to see how naive I was—but she just continues to stare at me waiting for high pitched squeals of some sort.

"Alice..." I shake my head at her. "You can't just marry some guy you find in Vegas. Your grandmother would kill you. Or at least cut you off from your trust fund." Alice has lived with her grandmother since her parents were killed in a car crash when she was eighteen months old. Grandma Rosie is from Savannah, Georgia. She followed her heart up to Canada, but maintained her traditional southern values.

"Oh, Bella." It's amazing that she is looking at me as if I'm the one who is delusional. "Grandma Rosie won't know about it. "

"Alice, even if you could keep her away from the September issue, there is no way you will be able to keep your article a secret from her. You always give yourself up. You always give us up. Everything we have ever gotten in trouble for is because as soon as she twitches to raise her eyebrow you are an open book." Alice was the toughest person I knew...when she wasn't in the presence of Grandma Rosie.

"No she wo-o -on't," Alice sings at me. I should have known she would have a plan for this. "When she sees it, I'm going to tell her that I wrote it about a friend who did this. I will say that I put it in first person to be relatable."

"Oh really, and what if she asks to meet this friend? You know she's relentless when she gets an idea in her head. The handful of times you haven't cracked under the weight of her bitch brow, you certainly did under interrogation." She knows this, I don't see why she ever thought she could get away with this.

"You." She points at me.

"I what, Alice? I'm not covering for you. Nana scares me way more than you ever could." In reality Grandma Rosie is just as much my grandma as she is Alice's. She took me in when I was fifteen. My parents moved to India and I wanted to stay in Vancouver. I lived with her until Alice and I moved into the dorms.

"If I don't come up with a better idea, I'm just going to say that you got married in Vegas. Easy peasy. Grandma Rosie is very sensitive to your current romantic situation and would instantly consider any rash decisions you make in the next six months a direct result of what Brady put you through. Seriously Bella, she even allowed him to be your Cotillion escort for gosh sakes, when you know she had some Southern Gentleman lined up for you. I think she is almost as hurt as you are over the whole thing." I knew she was right about that. I think telling Nana about Brady was almost worse than finding out myself.

She continues, "You have always been her favourite, always doing what you are told, following her little plan for you. I will always be the one who dropped out of college to join the magazine, and you will go on to your MBA and take over the family business." Her face crumples into this lost little girl who just found out her goldfish died.

It's not going to work. I wouldn't let go of my resolve on this one. "I don't care, Alice. Under no circumstances whatsoever are you to tell Nana Rosie that I got married in Vegas. I'm serious about this one. This will be a hard limit to the friendship."

Crossing her arms in front of her, she slams her butt back in the seat, facing forward. She is grumbling out words I can barely hear. Something about tequila, Elvis and honeymoon suite.

We have never been able to stay mad at each other for long. Within fifteen minutes we are back to mixing drinks with every kind of liquid the attendant could bring us.

.~*~.

Wow. I have no words other than 'wow'. The limo drops us off outside the Bellagio hotel. Alice was right about treating me like a princess. We were first class all the way, and it was free so in the limo we got our drink on. I will admit that between the flight and the limo ride, I'm already slightly buzzed.

I love the palm trees and the balmy weather. The lobby of the Bellagio hotel is so lavish and pristine. There are two giant lion statues in the lobby; it's literally right out of the movies. The ceiling is practically psychedelic and probably something I shouldn't be staring at too long in my current state. It's not moving yet but I can tell it's thinking about it.

We check in quickly and are promptly taken to our suite.

Beautiful doesn't even begin to describe the room. I feel a bit like a rock star, and the lush gold tones of the room make me feel like royalty. Dropping my bags, I run to the windows. There is an 180 degree view of the strip.

"Holy crap Alice, what or who did you have to do to get this room?" Her giggles peal from behind me and I join in. I can't take my eyes away from the view below. I sigh. "This is exactly what I needed."

"I know, babes, I know." She always knows exactly what I need, even if I don't recognize it myself. Before I start to steep in the realization of why I needed this getaway, I turn and grab Alice's hand.

I don't want my buzz to lessen in any way so I skip over to the mini bar and search out more of the entertaining little bottles that have become my new best friends. I toss a few to Alice and we mix our drinks and toast each other.

"Let's go explore, get some food, and make plans to find you a husband." Alice has rubbed off on me as I don't even wait for a response before dragging her out of the suite.

Giggling like the little schoolgirls we once were, I feel so carefree. I turn to make sure that she closed the door. Suddenly I'm stopped in my tracks with a head on collision. I grab onto whatever is in front of me to save myself from becoming road kill in the hotel hallway.

What I grasp seems familiar.

Too familiar.

I look up and see the one face I was trying to get away from.

Brady.

Before I can say anything, I hear boisterous screeching from behind me. "What the fuck are you doing here. You are not supposed to be here. You are not supposed to be anywhere near her. Ever again." Alice jumps in between Brady and me, shoving me behind her.

"It's not enough that you crushed her. She was the best thing that ever happened to you, and you couldn't even give her the decency of telling her that you played for the other team?" This is the first time Alice has seen Brady since I walked in on him and the Greek God. I wouldn't let her go hunt him down and string him up by his balls the way she wanted to when I told her what happened.

"Bella. I had no idea that you would be here, baby." He's looking at me with his puppy-dog eyes that have always let him get away with anything.

"Don't you 'baby' her, you..." I pull on Alice's arm as she is speaking. I'm not letting her fight my battles anymore. I have a moment of sobriety.

"Ya, don't you dare 'baby' me. What the hell, Brady? You have that work trip retreat thing that you go on every month. I wanted to go do that wine-tasting trip this weekend and you said that you couldn't because that was the third weekend of the month and that weekend you always..." I get it. I finally get it.

This wasn't a onetime thing. This wasn't an 'oops I got caught experimenting' type of situation. "There has never been a work weekend retreat thing, has there?" My voice breaks at the end of my out-loud thought.

His eyes meet mine, and I don't even need him to say the words —I can see the truth in them. And for the last time, he has broken me.

I refuse to grant him the viewing of my tears one more time. It's my turn to drag Alice down the hallway to find the first form of alcohol I can get my hands on.

With no patience remaining for the elevator, I haul her past them and toward the exit to the stairs, glancing back to make sure Brady isn't following us.

As I do this, I immediately run into something else. Jesus, I should learn from my own history of clumsiness to always watch where I'm going. I've been a walking disaster since...well, since I could walk. Probably even before that.

Strong arms wrap around me. I'm dazed for a moment by the smell, all clean and laundry fresh from the dryer smell. Why can't I just stay upright for an hour? One whole hour is all I ask. "Jesus, can't you just watch where you are going? It's not rocket science," I mutter to myself.

"Excuse me?" Oh crap. The arms have a body attached to a face that has eyes that look like a mixture between surprise and anger.

"Oh—uh...I—well..." I'm so embarrassed. I can also hear Brady down the hall calling my name. His calls are getting closer. I do not want to deal with him and my new revelations that have left me reeling.

"Alice...Brady." I manage to whisper.

Alice, being Alice, swoops in. "Hey hotshot, we need to get my friend out of this hallway now. This is your room , yes?" Already impatient, she barely waits a millisecond for him to answer. "Okay well, I saw you come out of it so let's go right back on in, okay? Okay."

She shoves both me and this mystery man into the room in front of us. She's really freakin' strong and her push sends us stumbling into someone else who's coming out of the room. The three of us tumble down on top of each other as Alice daintily twirls herself in the room and shuts the door.

We are so stunned that we literally lay on the floor, tangled up, limbs crossing limbs. It's a failed game of Twister. Alice glances at us then looks around the suite. "Ohhhh, you boys got this hooked up." She rushes to the windows to see their view.

I finally get myself untangled from the heap of boy I'm jumbled in. I don't come out unscathed; there are definitely a few inappropriate accidental hand placements.

Alice makes her way back toward us. "Hi, I'm Alice." She shakes both of their hands before they have even completely righted themselves. "This is my bestest friend Bella." I give a shy wave as I've already been more intimate with both of these men than I was with my high school boyfriends.

I give a small smile to the man who stopped my fall and smells oh so good. Grabbing his hand, Alice leads the other man to the window. I'm pretty sure he's a lock for soul mate number seventeen already.

"I'm Edward and that's Jasper." Sweet smelling guy nods his head toward the blond one.

"So, how long have you girls been in town?" He's slightly uncomfortable and awkward. His eyes continue to dart around the room, focusing on anything but me. There is soon to be blood at the back of his head if he scratches it much harder. I decide to become overly interested in the pattern of the carpet.

Suddenly he blurts out at me, "We brought home strippers last night." My head snaps up and I meet his eyes. Leaning back against the bar behind him, a slow cocky grin spreads across his face. "Yup, we all piled into our stretch hummer, and..."

I hold up my hand to stop whatever asinine, pig headed story is about to dribble forth from his lips. "Alice, we need to leave." Tired of men, all men, I just want to get back on track with our plan to have a girl's weekend. Well, girl's weekend up until the point where we find Alice some unsuspecting tool to marry her. If I have my way it will not be to one of these frat-like boys, that's for sure —no matter how right out of the runway they look.

Alice doesn't even hear me. I can feel my level of intoxication starting to waiver and I don't want to lose it. "Alice, come on..." I turn my head towards the window.

Oh.

My.

God.

Alice and the blond man are embracing. Yes, embracing. It's not some 'you are so hot and I am so drunk' making out session. She's not drunk enough for that anyway. They are facing the right corner of the expansive window and he has his arms protectively around her, one hand stroking her abdomen just above her belt line. It's almost tender and much more suggestive of an established relationship than one with the guy whose room you just busted into.

I suddenly feel like I'm interrupting some epic moment. "You interested in a drink?" Hearing the sound of ice cubes and bottles opening, I turn toward Edward to see what he is offering.

"This weekend, the answer to that question will always be yes." I sigh and climb onto one of the bar stools across from what appears to be my companion for the night if the two snuggling by the windows are any indication. Alice has clearly jumped right into 'research' mode.

"So I was saying—" Shaking my head, I stop him again before he can delve right back into whatever STD escapade he and his buddy indulged themselves in the previous night.

"Listen, I'm not really interested in hearing your frat-boy antics or about anything you brought home with you last night. In fact, let's avoid all talk of boyfriends, girlfriends, sexcapades and such. It looks like those two over there" –I jack my thumb over my shoulder to refer to the cuddling twosome—"have decided we shall be spending some time together. Let's not mention real life or anything you may have done in the last 48 hours and just be drinking buddies, okay?"

Grabbing the large vacation sized drink in front of me, I down the entire thing without even asking what is in it because quite frankly I don't care. "Fill 'er up bartender." I wave my hand over my glass and indicate that he should keep them coming.

Before filling my glass, he quickly downs his. I can see in his eyes he wants to go drink for drink.

Strumming his fingers on the top of the bar I can visualize the wheels of his mind turning thinking of an appropriate subject to discuss.

"Sooooo...um...what do you do?" Barely able to focus on his words because the strumming is driving me insane, I smack my hand down on his fingers.

"I'm in school." The end comes out a little high pitched as I am fascinated by the way his hand smoothly moves so that now his fingers are stroking mine.

"I'm in school too," he replies. "Well, we just graduated; that's why we're here, celebrating a new beginning and all that."

I nod, still mesmerized.

Instantly, I'm transported to a place where other fingers stroke and embrace. Other hands pour me drinks, caress my face, hold my hair and take care of me.

Tears are pooling and hands begin to shake. Why do I get so emotional when I drink?

"Are you okay?" He genuinely looks concerned which is a far cry from the look on his face when he was relaying his hoochie adventures moments ago.

I swat the revealing tears from my eyes and slide my glass across the bar to him.

"God, I'm fine. Jesus. Let's just get this over with. I've only slept with one man. That one you met earlier, running after me in the hallway. Well, we met when we were 16 and broke up three weeks ago when I walked in on him blowing that other dude in the hallway. There, my whole pathetic life in three pathetic sentences. Fill 'er up." I rest my head on my right forearm, leaving the other arm stretched out ready to grasp my full glass of forget everything liquid.

The crystal glass is placed in my outstretched hand. I look up, he has a matching one in his. Sipping in silence, he says nothing.

"What, you have nothing to say? C'mon, my boyfriend of four years is gay. Flaming, to be exact—if the skills he was demonstrating during that fellatio session I witnessed are any indication."

Burning, I feel burning as the liquid pours down my throat. Still, he just sits there sipping.

"Sucks." That, is the only thing he says as he pours me another.

"Friggen right." We clink glasses.

"K' your turn." I clink his glass again.

"You said no sharing that information." He smirks. Freakin' smirks. I can't tell if he's playfully teasing or just a perpetual smartass.

"Well, Einstein, that was before the liquid courage allowed me to spill my guts. Now, share yours." I place my head down and move my glass to the other end of the bar. I think it's time for a break because the room is now at a slightly different angle than it was when I entered it.

"I have nothing to share." He shrugs his shoulders and swipes his tongue around the rim of his glass.

I scoff at him. "Everyone has something to share."

A huge sigh fills the space between us. "Well, not me. I don't currently have a girlfriend and I have no ex-girlfriends." He gives me a look like what he just said is a perfectly normal and acceptable response.

"That is absurd; you're how old, like thirty? You have some sort of story by thirty." He is just ridiculous.

"Twenty-five." Stating his fact, he returns to his drink.

"See, I told you. Now that is a story. You've had twenty-five ex-girlfriends. Now, with my all-inclusive first year psych knowledge, I'm detecting some commitment issues from you." I waggle my finger at him.

He chuckles. "No, sweet girl, not twenty-five girlfriends. I'm twenty-five, not thirty, and I still haven't had a girlfriend."

I can actually feel my eyes bug out of my head. "You're a virgin." It wasn't even a question. I whisper the statement to him.

"HA!" My whole body whips around and I see the cuddling twosome walking toward us. They are still grasping onto each other. Oh goodie, I think Alice has definitely found Mr. Quickie Husband.

"Edward is definitely not a virgin. In fact out of our whole frat, Edward bang..."Jasper cuts off mid-sentence abruptly.

I turn to Edward who is rearranging his face into a sweet smile that I see right through. I glance at Alice because she would have been able to see Edward's face before Jasper was interrupted.

Alice however is still in googly-eye mode and they haven't left Jasper's face since we trampled our way in here.

"Oh whatever, I heard the word bang. Still means commitment issues. Alice, are we done here now, please?" I'm not above begging.

"Yup." She sighs.

I'm about to argue when I realized she's given me exactly what I want. Maybe Jasper wasn't the one. "Awesome. Well boys, it's been nice. Thanks for the drinks. Have fun with the strippers."

I'm already halfway out the door when I hear Alice talking again. "Okay gentleman, we will see you at seven o'clock exactly. Make sure you get us a great table."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. What?" I just spilled my guts to this pretty frat boy and have no desire to spend the evening seeing my words in his eyes.

"Yes Bella. These two men, Dr. Jasper and Dr. Edward"—she giggles—"have just graduated from medical school and are going to show us a good time tonight. So we are going to go get all gussied up and meet them at The Bank to start our night on the town."

My eyes are pleading with her but she only has eyes for Dr. Jasper. I resign. I always resign. She knows this and uses it against me.

I stumble out the door with her, not even waving goodbye to the good doctors.

"Let's go, beautiful Bella. We are going skanky shopping down the strip, and I'm going to marry that man tonight."

Someone save me.

.~*~.

Every pair of male eyes that pass me look me up and down from head to toe like I'm for sale. Literally. Every pair of female eyes are hateful, and their arms wrap around their dates a little tighter.

How Alice found the one store that had absolutely nothing redeemable in it, I will never know.

We walk through the front doors of the night club dressed like we've have just come off the set of Aladdin the musical.

Luckily, Alice was there in the dressing room, though, because this much translucent fabric confuses me and in my state of sobriety, or lack thereof, I would have ended up in a giant chiffon knot.

As always, Alice looks like the outfit was made for her. She looks like an Arabian princess and I look like a belly-dancing showgirl.

All I have heard for the past few hours is Dr. Jasper this and Dr. Jasper that. If I didn't know better, I'd think she was going to marry this man for real.

She drags me into the club just as she dragged me out shopping, and dragged me out of the hotel room.

With her infallible sixth sense, she doesn't even need to look around, and she dismissively passes the hostess to make a beeline for our dates who are seated comfortably at a center table beside the dance floor.

This place is the most elaborate club I've ever been in. Very chic and everything glitters. Latticed stair cases, chandeliers, even the carpet—all dazzling sparkles.

We arrive at the table, also covered in sparkled glitter that lightly dusts everywhere anytime even a light wind passes by. Edward is in deep conversation with a red-headed bombshell cocktail waitress.

Alice has already taken up residence on Jasper's lap. I stand, well sway, awkwardly like a fifth wheel.

Thank goodness Alice has been force-feeding me at every buffet we pass or I would be on the floor. Luckily I've been drinking enough that focusing is difficult and tuning out Edward's conversation with his latest conquest is effortless.

Finally the other three notice me. Edward gives the bimbo waitress a drink order and she scurries away.

Standing, Edward pulls out my chair. He must feel guilty for the stripper story, or ignoring me for the last five minutes. I gracefully sit or drunkenly stumble—whatever.

Our drinks are delivered, and once again, the waitress takes an extraordinarily long time at our table fawning over my date.

Tonight is going to be awesome; can't wait.

.~*~.

This has been the longest three hours of my life. I've have heard various frat boy, stripper, beer pong, donkey—yes, donkey—stories these two men have to offer. Quite frankly I'm surprised these two had time to get their M.D. while they were sleeping and drinking their way through college.

Blah. Blah. Blah.

The alcohol is playing tricks on me, I'm sure of it. I notice all the times Edward leans in. All the times his fingers graze over mine. All the times his eyes focus solely on me.

I'm sure it's just the emotional rollercoaster I've been riding for three weeks, mixed with the 3 martini's I've had in the last hour, that have my heart playing with my head.

I must remember that I'm just feeling sorry for myself and missing the presence of a man. I do not like Edward. He's hot, obviously rich, and intelligent. If I'm being honest, he has been incredibly sweet to me, minus the stripper talk. Yes, continue to remember the stripper talk.

Blah. Blah. Blah.

I excuse myself to the ladies room, grabbing my drink as I leave the table. Fast, like the sneaky little cat she is, Alice drags me over to the latticed staircase just beside our table. The princess packs a punch. "Ow, Alice. Geez, retract the claws a little okay?"

"Bella," Alice hisses at me while her eyes slyly return to our table where Edward and Jasper are casually scanning the crowd. Probably looking for something better, in Vegas there is always something better.

I can tell that Jasper is as taken with Alice as she is with him. Edward, however? There is no way that sex-on-legs would be interested in me. God I should have never let Alice talk me into wearing this dress.

Feeling like an idiot, I'm sure my awkwardness is just radiating all over Edward. Yup, I was right. I see Edward make eye contact with the red-headed cocktail waitress who defines Vegas bombshell. As she walks toward him, I look away and try to ignore the slight tugging I feel on my heart.

It's not that I'm even that into Edward. Sure, he's super-duper hot, but he's been oozing with the fake frat boy confidence all night, relaying stories of his recent college glory days. Seriously, even if you aren't all goo-goo eyes with someone, it doesn't make it appropriate to give play-by-plays of your most memorable conquests.

I sigh. Conquest spilling and all, after Brady, I need a good frat boy exploit.

Forget Edward's bad behaviour, I'm annoying myself.

Alice brings my attention back to her. "So, you are having fun right, Bells?"

"Sure, Alice." I pacify her, as always.

"And they are cute right? Like, not normal cute, but 'I want to figure out some kind of plastic surgery where I can permanently attach his lips to various parts of my body'— type cute right?" She has this dreamy daze on her face.

"Sure, Alice." I try to hide the rolling of my eyes.

"And we know how rare it is for me to find someone who just gets me. Have you noticed I haven't squealed once tonight since meeting him? And I have a strict five squeals per hour average. So, obviously, you will need to marry Edward tonight!" I've practically tuned her out. That red-headed cocktail slut keeps glaring this way.

"Sure, Alice." I wonder if she ever notices that we have hour long conversations where I simply repeat the same two words every two and a half minutes.

"Awesome! I spotted the perfect dress in that store near the fountain in the lobby. You will be the best 80's inspired bride ever."

"What?" I shriek as I register the word bride. I turn swiftly to her, so quickly in fact that the liquid in my glass flies out and lands directly in Edward's lap.

My face instantly flames with heat and I'm sure I've turned several shades of deep red. I kneel down, grab the napkin on the table and begin blotting his pants. I'm so embarrassed that I don't even realize how hard I'm pressing until something starts to press back.

He grabs the napkin, effectively pushing my hands away. I sit back on my heels, just staring at his hands. I am mesmerized by them, and not just the fact that I'm seeing four of them. My eyes roam up his chest and then settle on his neck. The cleft in his chin. His lips. His tongue. His eyes, staring into mine. Now we are both wet.

"Oh no!" In the background I hear the most horrific whiney voice I have ever heard. Edward turns his head, breaking our private trance. Standing on Edward's other side is the red-headed waitress. I squint. Her name tag says 'Rachel' but I'm sure there was a misprint. I'm sure it is meant to say 'skanky frat boy stealing whore'.

Alice grabs me under my arms from behind and helps me in to my chair across the table from Edward.

The slutty whoretress is bending over him now, shoving her expensive cleavage into his face. "Did you spill your drink, big boy? Do you need me to get you another one." Ugh, she punctuates every other word with her annoying giggle.

Leaning forward, I rest my elbows on my knees and let out an exasperated huff, forcing my breath out in a commanding wind.

Of course in my state of annoyance and alcohol, I forgot about the sparkles.

Oops.

I raise my eyes as seductively as I can and bat my eyelashes, for the sight in front of me is going to require much forgiveness.

See, the sparkles, while easily brush off of dry clothes, like Edward's jacket, stick like glue to wet things, like the crotch of his pants. I've created my own McDoctor. Dr. McSparkly.

Snort.

Giggle.

A raised eyebrow.

"What is so funny, you two?" Alice has torn her lips away from her own McDoctor.

I point and launch into hysterics.

They look.

They laugh.

We laugh.

He pouts and frowns.

Staring at me in disbelief as I continue my impression of a hyena, he lowers his face, levelling his pursed lips with the table's edge, and blows all the remaining glitter at me.

I turn my head to guard my eyes from the incoming sparkle invasion.

Snort.

Giggle.

Yeah, maybe I will get a different kind of sparkle invasion later on.

Unfortunately, turning my head only allowed the sparkles to invade my hair and stick to the ridiculous amounts of hairspray Alice assaulted me with earlier.

Now Edward joins in on our laugh-fest.

In all the commotion, I forgot about our little personal waitress hovering around our table like a gnat that you can't kill. She pushes her boobs right in front of Edward's face, effectively ending our amusement.

She clears her throat and asks about the drinks again.

Miraculously, Edward's eyes find mine around the mountains of silicone blocking his view. "No, I'm great, but the beautiful Bella here needs a refill. In fact bring us all two rounds of tequila, will you?" He shoos her away with a wave of his hand.

I stare at him incredulously. He called me beautiful.

He leans forward over the table and motions me to do the same. "She's been trying to get an invite to my suite since the night we got here. I even overheard her calling me 'her man' to other female guests trying to scare them off." He makes the universal crazy sign and rolls his eyes as he leans back in his chair.

"Here you go, baby." Holy shit, she must have some kind of super powers to be back that fast with our drinks. She places his two drinks in front of him. She then straddles his legs, facing the table, to pass out the rest of our drinks. Her ass is right in his face.

He backs his chair up, stands, and walks around the table to sit down in the unoccupied chair beside me. Moving it closer to mine, he wraps his arm around me. Fingers make delicate patterns on my upper arm, and I indulge in the sensation, if just for a moment.

"Uh, Rochelle was it?" Edward stares innocently at her.

A mix of anger and embarrassment pass over her face as she corrects him. "No! It's Rachel."

"Oh, sorry, Rachel." He grins. "You can just charge everything to room 1214. My Bella and I won't need _any_ of your services any longer." He turns his undivided attention to me; I have just fallen in lust with him.

Blah, blah, blah becomes words that I'm genuinely interested in. I try to focus, as he seems to be telling me information of substance yet all I see is the cleft in his chin. His lips. His tongue. His eyes; staring into mine.

We talk. We dance. We canoodle in the corner. _Giggle_. Canoodle: his word, not mine. As in, "Come on, sweet stuff, let's go canoodle in the corner." _Giggle._

My resolve mixed with copious amounts of tequila shots resulted in Edward and I acting just like Alice and Jasper.

I'm beginning to feel slushy. Just the thought of his tongue in my mouth will make me agree to almost anything.

Before I know it, we are making out. Like really making out. Like three separate club-goers have told us to get a room. We already have rooms.

We take our private party to the dance floor. I become one with the music and Edward. Everything then starts to blur together.

The dance floor. Buying a white dress. The limo ride.

Blur. Blur. Blur.

The Clark County Marriage Bureau. Another limo ride. Arguing with Alice over the Elvis package versus the Drive Through package.

Blur. Blur. Blur.

.~*~.

Fuck. Why do I always do everything that Alice Brandon tells me to? I've been a faithful subject to her dictatorship ever since she marched into my kindergarten class the first day of school and demanded that I immediately take my pigtails out. That I was a five year old girl, not a pig, and from that point forward, any hairstyle that deviated from a braid, ponytail or straight needed to be pre-approved by her if we were going to be best friends. I was going to inform her that, if I wasn't a pig, I certainly wasn't a pony, but I really wanted to be her best friend because she came equipped with her very own set of sparkly Polly Pockets and I needed to play with them. I'm a total sucker for sparkly things.

"Alice, I don't think I can do this!" I look at myself sitting in this all-white room in front of a mirror as my face illuminates under the large white bulbs surrounding it. It's like the ones that movie stars use. I certainly look like a movie start right now. One who is right out of a John Hughes film waiting to go to the prom. Quite the sobering effect.

Alice has teased and crimped my hair into oblivion, and now it sits stuffed under a white lace scarf. She squeezes me into the tiniest white corset known to man, and I'm sure if she had the time she'd be researching having a few of my ribs removed so that I could fulfill her perfect fantasy of the quintessential Vegas bride.

I have six, count 'em one, two, three, four, five, six crinolines on. All white, some with lace trim, others with satin.

She stalks toward me with about thirty necklaces adorned with pearls, jewels and crosses galore. Ugh, this isn't the first time I've relented and let her play life-sized Barbie.

"You can do this. You will do this," she says with conviction. "I'm not letting my chance at a cover story go down the drain, simply because you get cold feet about getting married to some fuck-hot doctor for a few weeks, at most."

"Alice, it's not like picking a prom date or getting a puppy. It's getting married. It's legal." My pleads will fall on deaf ears, I am sure.

"Don't be a baby, remember what you told me." She points her finger at me and raises her eyebrows.

"I, in no way, ever agreed to be the one to get married." I try to swat her pointy finger away from me but miss.

And I'm going down.

Luckily the stool I'm perched upon is only two feet off the ground so the damage is not irrevocable.

It still smarts, but in my current state I find this hilarious. Bubbly giggles burst forth from my mouth and Alice bends down beside me and joins in on the festivities.

Quickly she helps me to my feet and steadies me.

"Alice?" I look at her in a brief moment of clarity.

"Yeah, baby?" she asks while focusing solely on making sure every hair is in place.

"Why?" I'm confused.

"I told you honey, it's not permanent. It's a Vegas wedding, quickie annulment, and I get my article." She shakes her head at me like I'm being ridiculous for questioning this whole fiasco.

"No. I know why I'm doing it. Why is he so willing to go along with this?" Realizing I've never questioned his motives before now, I become slightly panicked again.

"I don't know. Don't you remember when we discussed this?"

I shake my head.

"Oh, well he brought it up as a joke. We laughed, then made it a real proposition. He was reluctant at first but then Jasper said something about perfect timing and solutions being found through love and marriage. I don't know, who cares? You won't be married long." Weirdly enough, this logic makes sense and sits well with me.

"Alright, Madge, let's get you hitched." The grin that has spread across Alice's face is so contagious. I sport one of my own.

.~*~.

Breathe in, breathe out. That is what Alice has me repeating to myself over and over. It also helps to keep me from puking; a less than desirable quality in a bride-to-be.

Green eyes pierce mine. I step forward, making my way down the aisle. Green eyes captivate my attention. This leaves my feet to their own devices, and they tend to not get along with any inanimate objects—like the carpet of the aisle.

I go down.

Almost.

Once again, his arms wrap around me, halting my movement and righting me vertically.

Looking at me and smiling, he dips his head down so his lips are pressed against my ear. He whispers, "Let's make it forever, baby."

We make it to the front of the chapel together where Elvis awaits us.

Every possible line of Elvis lyric pun is used throughout the ceremony. I don't focus on The King's words. To be truthful, I don't really focus on anything.

Blur. Blur. Blur.

Suddenly, Dr. McSparkly grabs my hand and I feel cold metal.

I look down at the ring he placed on my finger. "Um, what the fuck is this, Dr. McSparkly?" Oh my, apparently tequila makes my snarky side come out.

"What did you just call me?"

I think I will try Ms. Snarky out again. "Oh, sorry. What the fuck is this, _husband_ McSparkly?" Yup, I definitely like her.

My attention is now back on the fourth finger of my left hand. It is adorned with a gold ring that has an obscenely large dark blue stone with a giant 'F' engraved on the side. I pause to think for a moment. Yes, this is the ugliest ring I have ever seen.

"Well, excuse me, would you prefer we use that ring pop that you've been sucking on for half the night?" He points.

I quickly switch to looking at my right hand. Wow, that's a little trippy. If I do that fast enough, my two hands blur into one. Ha ha! This is fun. Okay, now I'm a little dizzy. I focus on my right hand. Yup there they are. Five pretty little ring-pops, each a different flavour. Mmmmmm ring-pops.

"Ahem." When I attempt to move my attention back to Elvis, as he has rudely interrupted my ring-pop love affair, my eyes are once again distracted by the atrocity that is adorning my left hand.

"Why the hell is there a giant F on this ring?" There's only one F-word that keeps coming to mind and I don't think it stands for that. Unless Dr. McSparkly—excuse me, Husband McSparkly is in the practice of quickie Vegas weddings and giving out 'fucking' rings to symbolize it.

"Oh my god. It. Does. Not. Stand. For. FUCKING! It stands for Forks."

Snort. "Is there an S on the other side for spoons?" Ahahahaha, I'm sooooo funny when I hit the tequila.

"Believe me, you are not _that_ funny. And no, Forks is where I'm from."

Well, that sentence just confuses me. How can you be from a utensil? I seriously just married the weirdest dude on the plant.

"I'm weird? Sweetie, you look like you just stepped off Madonna's Like A Virgin tour."

Ugh, now where the hell is the switch for my verbal filter? The one that turns off my mouth before it reveals all of my thoughts.

Blur. Blur. Blur.

Declaration of Husband and Wife. Throwing the bouquet. Pictures with Elvis.

Blur. Blur. Blur.

Limo ride. Safe sex talk from Alice. Carried over the hotel room threshold.

Blur. Blur. Blur.

We enter the bedroom of his suite and I rush to the bed.

I perform a flinging twirl manoeuvre to get onto the bed. No, it's not particularly coordinated, but I lost all illusions of grace coming down the aisle. Giggling at my immature display, I lift myself up onto my elbows to see what Edward is doing now.

Soft music engulfs the room as he is fiddling with the stereo system on the other side of the room. I scrunch my face up when I realize what he has chosen to serenade us with.

"It was the most appropriate choice." His mouth forms a side smirk and he shrugs his shoulders. The song is now into the first verse.

"I assure you, Mr. Cullen, although dressed in the appropriate attire, I am in no way _Like A Virgin_." My voice sounds husky as I lay my best bedroom eyes on him and crook my finger to direct him toward me.

As he walks across the room, I attempt to get up on my knees so that I can properly greet my sexy new husband. A second giggle escapes my lips as I think of the word husband and the fact that I now have one. How proud my mother would be, me following in the family tradition of quickie Vegas weddings and all. My focus is smooshy.

Tequila doesn't really help the uncoordinated.

Falling forward, I ready myself to hit the floor when I feel warm hands catch me just in time. With his help, I right myself so I'm standing just in front of the bed. His hands move, resting on my hips. Pressing his lips against mine with the lightest of pressure, I sigh and relax into his hold. The kisses are gentle but get progressively more intense.

I lay my hands on his chest and gently push him backwards toward the chair in the corner of the room. Our lips never part, which makes the move ever so slow.

Minutes later the edge of the chair meets the back of his knees. Forcing myself to release his lips, I give him one final shove so that he sits in the chair.

His hands reach up to grab my hips once again but I stop him. "Nuh uh," I moan at him as I place his hands on the sides of the chair. I bend over to get my mouth as close to his ear as possible. "No touchy, Mr. Cullen."

While this song is dress appropriate, it's hardly ideal for my purposes. I can feel his eyes burning into me as I cross the room back to the stereo system.

An iPod playlist will say a lot about my new husband. Holy shit, he has like a billion songs on this thing. Everything is organized into different playlists. Hmmm let's see if I can find all my favourite artists. Here's Aerosmith, a little New York Dolls...ooooooh the Kinks, maybe this will be a successful marriage, after all.

"Ahem." Clearing his throat, he brings me out of my ruminations.

I smirk over my shoulder at him. "A little eager are we Mr. Cullen?"

I'm feeling a little nostalgic so I skip through the playlist labelled 90's Jams. I select one. This is perfect. Music fills the room once again.

Deep breaths. Summoning my inner Carmen Electra, I try to remember the beginning moves of the first striptease video that Alice made me practice relentlessly, claiming it would spice things up with Brady. Snort. Little did she know.

Breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Carmen says if you don't breathe properly you won't be able to do the moves.

Okay, focus. To combine this routine with the lap dance one I'm going to have to bring my A game. Drama, I need to create drama. The tie.

I walk over to the table where he has discarded his fedora and tie. I'm not really sure how to tie a tie, so I just tie it in a granny knot. Yup, looks hot to me. Now, the pièce de la résistance, the fedora, tipped slightly over my right eye. I wink at him.

Perching as far forward as he can while remaining seated, he bites down on his lower lip. It doesn't help the groan that rumbles low in his chest. Oh yeah, he wants me, bad.

The beat of the song has started pumping. Go big or go home is my thinking, so a double twirl to start the routine. Holy Sweet Jebus. Half way through the first turn my foot grabs some extra traction from the rug and stops.

Unfortunately my body keeps going and my arms are flailing. I try to grab on to something, anything, to stop me from falling. Not the brightest idea. Oh well, if I'm going down, I might as well take a lamp and a vase or two with me.

Edward is rushing over to save me from myself and the lamp. "Get back to where you were, Cullen" I yelp at him. "I said no touching and I meant it; back in the chair." I can't have him touch me or else it's game over. I will throw him down on the carpet and wreck all my plans of foreplay.

He stumbles a bit but sits back in position. The tequila is affecting him too. I right myself and the lamp. The lamp is now in two. That's all right though; it doesn't in any way match the room.

"Alright," I tell him. "That song clearly was not meant for this, I'm going to pick another."

Okay, this one is perfect. I think I was too focused. I forgot to be me. Carmen always says to remember to put some personality in it because the secret to sexiness is you.

"What?" I'm shaken from my pep talk. I stare at him and he continues, "You just said sexiness is you."

"I did?" He nods. "Erm, well, yeah that's right. Sexiness is _yoooooooou_," I coo at him, waggling my finger.

Back to business. The song has hit the chorus. I start singing along. "I wanna sex you up. La la la la la la. Ooo ooh ooh ooh ooh. I wanna rub you down."

First move, taking it a little bit slower this time. I bend my knees, sliding my palms down the front of my thighs. As I come back up, I pop my hip out to the side, allowing my hands to rest momentarily on my butt. I repeat going the opposite direction. This time I add a slap to my ass. Bend and smack, bend and smack. That's enough of that, it's starting to sting.

While I transition to the next step in the routine, I decide to jut my hips forward from side to side. I am keeping Carmen's voice in the back of my head telling me to really push my hips out. Switch and pose. Switch and pose. I stick my finger in my mouth. Carmen says to never underestimate the power of the finger in your mouth. I think it's working. He can't take his eyes off me.

Walking. The next eight counts are walking forward then walking in a circle. I'm allowed to improvise here, Carmen says so. Alice never thought I should improvise. She has a few bruises that back up her theory. Alice isn't here though. It's just me, Carmen, and my sparkly husband.

Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Note to self: Alice has put enough hairspray in my hair that level five hurricane winds wouldn't make it budge. Trying to run my fingers through it was a bad idea. I think I covered it well though, twirling my fingers on the stuck piece of hair until it was free.

I continue my sexy walk until I'm situated right in front of him.

It's time to break out the big guns. The boob rub. I don't think I've ever actually rubbed my own boobs. They have actually received very little attention. Brady was more of an ass man. Okay, I remember the best piece of advice. If you commit to it, it looks hot.

This corset doesn't allow for much movement, but I'm not at the part of the routine where I take it off. I have the lap dance portion to perform first. What if I press my boobs together? There we go, a little bit of movement. Push them up, release. Push them up, release. My boobs are actually pretty great. I feel remorse for neglecting them.

Once again I'm reminded that I'm supposed to be putting on a floor show. As much as I think he likes the show—and he must like it, I'm playing with my boobs for god sakes—it's time to move on.

It feels like the appropriate time to transition into the lap dance portion of tonight's events.

I lean forward, placing the palm of each hand on his corresponding thighs. Conveniently this places my awesome boobs right in front of his face. Shifting my hips from side to side, I lick my lips in an attempt to distract him while I remember what Carmen said to do next.

Um, okay. I will walk around the chair and take off the tie. Yes. This is perfect. It gives me time to think about the next move and I'm taking something off.

Walk one, two, three, four.

Tie off...

I said, tie off.

Shit shit shit shit. Carmen said to loosely tie the tie. Crap. I suppose I will have to just yank it off.

I stumble a bit but the fucker comes off. I'm facing the hubs once again, and I place the tie noose over his head. It gets caught on his ears, but another good yank brings it around his neck. Really, his mom should have gotten those things pinned back when he was a child. I suspect, he was teased mercilessly on the playground.

The next five minutes or so of the routine was supposed to involve me threading the tie through my thighs and standing on one leg or some ridiculous crap.

Actually come to think of it, I'm done with Carmen. Those DVD's are rated PG and this show is definitely not suitable for children.

Deciding a direct approach is the best, I simply place my knees on either side of him, straddling his sparkle spot. Each of my hands grabs a collar on his shirt and I pull with all my might.

Buttons go flying. We fumble together to remove his shirt. He is, at last, bare-chested before me.

In turn, I rip of my corset. I rub my boobs up and down his chest. Knowingly, I grip his wrists, still situated on the arms of the chair, to hold them down.

"Please," he whimpers.

I have tortured him enough and decide to let his hands roam free.

Up and down my back. It feels so warm and good.

I place kisses running along his neck. He feels so warm and good.

Resting my head in the crook of his neck, I linger in the warmth he is radiating.

I can't help myself. Everything with Brady was strictly vanilla. I bite his neck. Hard.

"Ouch! Bella."

Too hard.

My face reads properly chastised. I know the perfect way to make this biting situation up to him.

Blow Job.

Brady loved blow jobs.

I scurry down to make work of his pants but am stopped by his hands grabbing mine forcefully.

"What do you think you are doing?" His words and his eyes reflect alarm.

"I'm giving you a blow job." Shrugging my shoulders, I return to the task at hand.

"You just bit my neck, hard enough that I will probably be bruised and have teeth marks tomorrow, and you think I'm going to let your mouth anywhere near my dick?" His stare breathes bewilderment.

A warm blush creeps over my cheeks.

"Baby girl, let me take care of you, okay?" An honest expression punctuates his words.

Before I even know what is happening, he has lifted us both out of the chair and thrown me onto the bed.

Of course, being me, I bounce.

The edge of the bed, and worse, the floor are waiting to cradle my fall.

His arms get there first. I may have to keep him around for a while, purely for personal safety reasons.

As he joins me on the bed, I quickly regain control and have him on his back within moments.

His tongue darts out to swipe across his lips, and he looks at my exposed knees straddling his legs. "I'm going in," he whispers to me as his fingers slide under my mountain of crinoline.

His fingers begin to trace slowly up the sides of my thighs. They leave a tingling resonance in their wake. I'm pretty sure that it's just because I've gotten to the point of alcohol consumption where my entire body feels slightly numb and tingly, like my mouth after a visit to the dentist.

He lingers at my hip bones where the sides of my panties slightly dig into my skin before removing his hands from under the ridiculous gauze that surrounds me. Our eyes refocus on each other. "Alright Madonna, what do you say we lose the 'like a virgin' act, k?" Everything he says sounds warm and slushy.

God, I wish there were only two eyes to focus on instead of the six. Bracing my hands on his shoulders to stop myself from swaying, I raise myself up onto my knees. I push him back so he is leaning into the pillows behind him and shimmy up his body and hover over his chest.

The crinoline mess is pushed down to my knees, and I sit back to take the annoying things off the rest of the way. This lines him up perfectly right between my southern cheeks, and the moment _he _realizes this is obvious because he gets a little bit harder. The crinolines come off and are now covering his eyes. He's having none of it.

The offending skirts are thrown onto the floor somewhere. He turns his head back to me and his eyes widen in a shocked surprise. Unsure why his face looks like that, I look down. I'm pretty positive I remember the torture session last week at the dungeon, which Alice claims was a spa, that cleared away any kind of foliage I had going on down there.

My eyes then widen in the same shocked surprise. What I seem to have forgotten is that Alice squeezed me into matching Madonna white lace crotch-less panties.

His chest shakes with silent laughter as he presses his lips to my inner thigh, mumbling, "Easy access, Ms. Swan?"

"I believe that is Mrs. Cullen now." With that he roughly grips the side of the garment covering my right hip as a growl escapes from his lips.

I can tell they are about to be ripped off when an idea flashes across his face and he states, "These stay on. The. Whole. Time"

We stare into each other's eyes, exhaling in anticipated pants.

Everything begins to move in slow motion for me. Watching him raise his hand allows me to focus on the possibility that those fingers will soon be providing me pleasure.

He grasps the end of the scarf tied in my hair and gives it a light tug. It falls loose and floats lightly into a pile of lace beside us. Once again his hands are on my face. I lean in to taste his lips again and reach for the discarded lace to throw it off the bed.

Before I can move it, he quickly grabs it. Bringing his lips to mine he whispers against them, "We'll need that for later."

"We will?" I ask.

"Oh Bella," he breaths out. "I have plans."

With that his tongue enters my mouth. I allow my eyes to droop and close; for if I don't, the stimulation is just too much. While I'm thinking about just letting myself feel, he moves his lips down my neck. He's already sporting a bit of a five o'clock shadow so it starts to tickle.

Suppressing my laughter is nearly impossible in my inebriated state. I throw my head back to revel in these sensations. It's a bit of a head rush doing that.

The kisses stop.

I don't like that.

I like kisses.

As I go to find out why the kisses have stopped, I forget how close we are. My head propels forward rather forcefully and only stops when it connects with his.

"Fuck, Bella." The yelling startles me and I cower back slightly. I don't know why, maybe it's the alcohol or maybe it's the gravity of this situation, but I can surpass my tears no easier than my laughter.

Tears are pooling and threaten to start spilling over. Suddenly I'm enwrapped by the man under me. He's cradling my head, stroking my hair and whispering shushes in my ear.

I know it's not possible because I just met this man and for the entirety of our relationship I have been, well, intoxicated, but I feel loved. In this moment, after everything, I feel loved—and that makes me wet. Really, can you blame me? I am drunk, horny, and have recently come to the realization that I've never had sex with a straight man.

This.

Will.

Be.

Awesome.

Foreign words begin to fill my ears. A lot of foreign words.

"What language are you seducing me in?" It sounds so good and I want him to translate.

Answers are whispered in tongues, "Mon Amour..."

I interrupt because now it is getting a little annoying. "Edward, what are you saying?"

He looks confused, "French, obviously."

"Edward, why would that be obvious?" he's clearly drunk as much as I have.

"You're Canadian." These words are spoken as if he has stated reasonable explanations.

"Oh, Good Lord, Edward. I don't speak French." He's confused and I continue. "Do you speak Spanish?" I don't even wait for an answer. "Jeez, just for the record, I don't live in an igloo or play hockey either."

We stare at each other for a paused moment before dissolving into fits of laughter. I can't remember having this much fun. Ever.

He's sweet, kind, funny and puts up with my ridiculous behaviours.

My lips move fervently back to his. Eagerness becomes my prime reaction and I can't get enough of him. Hands and lips start moving in coordination with each other. I feel his body stiffen. His whole body. Not just the little sparkly.

He places his hands on either side of my face, stilling all my movements. "Bella, we don't have to do this." I can see him trying to think clearly by shaking his head.

"You don't want to do this?" I instantly feel rejection again.

"No. No no no no no." A laugh escapes his lips. "You silly little Material Girl. I want you more than I've wanted anything in a very long time. Believe me, it is taking all my strength to stop and question if this is what you want rather than just ravage you."

"Ravage. Ravage away, I say." I grasp the sides of his neck and present my boobs to his face again.

"Are you sure?" His eyes are not on mine but rather at my awesome boobs that are very close to his awesome tongue. I say awesome way too much. Nana would be disappointed. Ew. Thoughts of Nana. I shake them right out.

Focus on what is here. What was his question again? Oh right. "Yes I'm sure." I promise him with a nod of my head. "I'm a little bit concerned at your extensive Madonna knowledge but I'm trying to push past that." My reply is honest. At this point I'm horny enough not to care, but I would like some reassurance on that point.

"Ahhhh yes, your last boyfriend." Crap, did I tell him that. I don't even know this man and I told him that. Well, I suppose I also married him so I guess the ex-boyfriend discussion was appropriate.

"Well, I have three older sisters that all delighted in torturing me throughout at least the first ten years of Madonna's career." His answer is good enough for me to get back to focusing on the smexin that is about to happen. "I assure you, Isabella, I am only interested in sexual activity with females. One female, to be exact."

Huh. Confusing. "Who?" I ask.

He just stares at me.

Oh.

I giggle.

"I want you, beautiful girl." His eyes smoulder to add punctuation to his statement.

I challenge him. "Alright, then don't be a baby. Shut up and put your money where your mouth is."

He leans in and our bodies relax against each other. He continues to lean forward until I am forced backwards and he now hovers above me.

Delightfully, his kisses return. Slowly he makes his way down my body. It tickles as he reaches the skin just below my belly button.

"You are so fucking sexy." His words come out as muffled growls as he continues to kiss and lick my sensitive skin.

No one has ever called me sexy. My fabulous foreplay pre-show must have done the trick. I wish Alice was here; she would be so proud.

His kisses move lower. My eyes stay on his every move.

On second thought, I'm very glad Alice is not here.

He grabs the band of my underwear in his teeth and then lets it go, allowing it to snap lightly against my skin.

I start to squirm. This is all new to me. The only person I've ever been this intimate with is Brady, and this was one attraction that Brady never wanted to visit. I always thought it was a hygiene thing because he was obsessed with germs and cleanliness. Although, thinking back, Brady had no problem with my mouth on him.

All thoughts of Brady flee my mind when I feel him reach his destination. He takes a deep breath and then open mouthed he pants, his hot breath clings to my damp, sensitive skin. Completely captivated, I continue to watch. He looks up at me and then places a kiss where his breath lingered.

The gesture is full of reverence. He flattens his tongue against me and it spans the width of my vertical lips as he begins to stroke upwards. He returns to my sweet spot and allows his lips to close around it. The suction begins to build until he is rolling my bud lightly between his teeth.

If I don't want to completely unfold right this second, I can't keep watching him. Closing my eyes, I focus on the feeling of his tongue repeatedly flattening at the base of my sex and stroking to the apex. The playlist has stopped and now his ministrations and my heavy panting is the only music filling the room.

He pauses briefly and I open my eyes to find out why he has stopped. Gracefully he floats over my body toward my face, his forehead pressing against mine. "Are you still with me, my little pretty one?" Bringing his lips to the tip of my nose, his hand lightly strokes the side of my cheek.

Smiling, I entice his thumb into my mouth and close my lips around it. I'm going to show him and his dick what they are missing. He will never turn down one of my blow jobs again. I begin to use every amount of suction I can gather, swirling my tongue around the tip of his thumb with expert manipulations. I lick from the base to the tip and swirl one more time at the end before I drag my lips off of his thumb.

Now his eyes are hooded. "Betcha wishin' you didn't turn down my offer now, eh Edward?" He simply nods.

"Too bad, it was a onetime deal. Now get back down there, as you are now legally required to do." I wave my hand just below my stomach to indicate that he should resume. Leaning back, I allow my lids to close once again.

Hearing him scoff and look back at him. "Isabella, maybe I should repay your taunting?" My eyes plead as he gustily licks my center. "No, you wouldn't like that would you?"

As he finds the previous rhythm, I feel myself getting really worked up. My alcohol has reached that slushy fuzzy place that feels so good. My limbs are heavy and I know if Edward achieves his current goal I will drift into slumber shortly after. Realizing this, I sit up and place my hands on the side of his head to make him stop.

Briefly looking into my eyes, he moves his head to return his focus to the job at hand. I stop him again. "You have to stop or I'm going to come." His smirk returns.

"Yeah wifey, that's kinda the point. Legally, that is. I don't want any irreconcilable differences to come between us." Oh God, his thumb is now resting on my clit and the small circles he's creating have brought me right back to the edge.

"No, no n-no, no," I groan at him, resolving myself to push his hand away yet again. "If I come I will blissfully fall into a deep sleep and I want to have this—" I grab his crotch. He winces. Oops. I lighten my grip.

"This," I continue, "inside me when we come together." I'm pretty sure we won't be coming together as I have never come during actual intercourse, but maybe he's some kind of orgasm whisperer, what do I know? I've been having sex with a gay man for four years.

The laugh that begins low in his chest is almost wicked. "Alright, Isabella." I can tell he is planning something.

Before I know it, he has flipped me over effortlessly and I'm on all fours. I go to reach for his cock behind me but he grabs my hands and leans forward, pressing his whole length against me and forcing me to do the same. My stomach is now resting on the stacked pillows.

His hard-on is pressing into me and I wiggle my hips to try to get it situated where I want it.

"Nuh uh," he whispers in my ear. "Now it's your turn for no touchy, Mrs. Cullen." With that he grabs the lace scarf I had tied in my hair and begins to wrap it around my wrists. He then secures it to the metal fastening the bed to the wall.

With my arms extended in front of me, I can't back up to continue teasing him. Goosebumps begin to rise in the wake of his hands as they slide down my arms and along my torso. They move around and cover my breasts.

He begins to roll my nipples with his thumb and forefinger.

I'm so fascinated with these new sensations I don't even notice Edward lining himself up. He rubs the full length of his cock up and down my slit. Every time he passes my opening, I try to press backwards to get the show on the road, but he moves away, laughing.

"Argh, just put it in already." He's frustrating me and I've had four years of endless frustration. He backs up completely, leaving only the tip resting at my entrance. I let all the tension release from my body in defeat. My shoulders sag in their bindings and my head hangs down.

Just when I've succumbed to defeat, he pushes into me. In reaction, my torso raises and I lean back in one sudden motion. The lace bonds pull on my wrists and I fall forward again.

He's moving a slow, dragged-out pace, and I can tell his purpose is to go as deep as physically possible. His fingers are digging into the skin of my hips where his hands have found purchase, thumbs hooked around the side bands of my underwear pulling them taut. He's playing with the breathing room between pleasure and pain, and it feels incredible. Every time he is fully embedded in me he pauses for a few seconds filling me completely.

"Ung," I groan and attempt to move my hand so that I can make sure I get mine, but after an inch of movement my bondage pulls back on me. I hang my head once again and let out a slight sob. What he's doing feels so good but I know that it won't be enough.

Just when I have resigned to making a plan to take care of myself as soon as my hands are free, I feel the hand he was gripping my right hip with slide forward over my abdomen.

Our roughly breathed pants are in sync as his chest rests against my back. Our dewy skin briefly bonds together, creating a sticky feeling. His fingers expertly slide to my center and once again, he begins his slow rhythmical manipulations providing the perfect amount of pressure. This, combined with his smooth deep strokes, pushes me quickly to the brink.

Whispers float into my ear. "I promised to take care of you; let me do that, okay?" All I can do is nod as I bite my lip in an attempt to hold out.

"If I go faster are you going to come with me?" Again I nod.

"Do you promise?" _Stroke_. "Mrs." _Stroke_. "Cullen?" _Stroke._

"Let me hear you, Bella." His breathing is becoming laboured; I can tell that he must also be close.

"Eddddddwaaarrrrd!" I try to scream but my orgasm overtakes me and it comes out a breathy moan.

I hear my name repeated several times in hushed tones as he releases inside me.

I cry out when he collapses on top of me as it pulls uncomfortably on the confines around my wrists.

"Sorry, baby," he pants and pulls out. He slides over me and pulls roughly on the lace knot behind the bed, freeing my instantly.

He manoeuvres us so that we are on our sides and continues to loosen the scarf ties. When free he tosses the fabric off the bed.

I feel consciousness slipping from my grasp. Somehow he covers us with the duvet and arranges the pillows under our heads. I feel warm and satiated, cradled in his arms.

Not that I have an immense variety to compare it to, but without a doubt, this was the most satisfying sexual experience I've ever had.

Before I can sort through my musings any further, I feel the combination of alcohol, sexual gratification, and Edward's steady lulling breaths pull me under.

.~*~.

My eyelids flutter open. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Yes I'm going to need all three, and whatever Saints I can remember the names of, to come save me.

What the hell happened last night and where the heck am I?

Why are these lights so bright?

I slowly sit up and shake my head. Glitter flutters around me, falling out of my hair.

I am thrown out of my stupor by the sound of groaning beside me. I whip my body around to see the origin of the sounds.

Holy. Crap.

There is a man beside me. Not just beside me, in bed with me. Not just a man, a naked man. A gorgeous, naked man.

A collage of blurry images start blurring together but I can't get any of them into a clear focus. Extending my arm out to my side, I shake the strange naked man beside me.

"You need to help me out," I plead to him and explain further. "It's all a blur last night."

The gorgeous naked man groans and turns, facing me. "Mmmm. Good morning my sweet girl. Yes, I'm remembering some delicious blurs as well."

Turning toward him, I pull the sheets up further and grasp the pillow in front of me for extra coverage. In doing so, I see my left hand.

Panic. "Why the fuck am I wearing this class ring?"

**~*~THE END~*~**

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**A/N: This is my first time writing anything creatively since I was eleven years old and I wrote a story depicting the year 2000 where we would all obviously have flying cars.**

**I would have posted something way worse if it were not for my beta annanabanana. I bought her in the FGB auction and forced her to sort through my drabbles.**

**My fabulous pre-readers: monamour, JBurdick, duckynoel and jslpisces.**

**TY: My wonderful ficwife revelrae, who is my twin. My crossover from RL konstentine, who suggested I write fic in the first place. Rosalynn7885 for forcing me to WC all the time (and everyone else I WC with). All my h00rs (esp. sadtomato and ohpenelope5446 who held my hand when writing scary lemons).**

**If you could now vote for one of the contest entries that would be great. Reviewers may *eventually* get a little EPOV in their box ;)**


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